Return of the Sandman
by Crescent Moon Dancer
Summary: White. Gold. Sand. Dream Sand. Guardians. Darkness. And...the Moon.


White.

That was all I could see for a minute. I didn't know who I was, where I was, how I had gotten there, or what I was doing. I didn't know anything, didn't see anything, didn't smell, or hear, or feel anything. It was just...white.

Then it turned gold, and I remembered. At least, I remembered a little. I seemed to recall that I was...I was dead. Wasn't I? But who had killed me, and why, and how could I be remembering something if I were dead?

"What...what is this?"

My voice sounded strange to my ears, and I got the feeling that, until I had spoken, I hadn't any voice at all. It was as if I were floating, without substance or being, just a tangle of disembodied thoughts and confusion. But now I was a voice, as well, a voice and ears.

Strange.

I instinctively moved, and instantly I had substance. My body felt both familiar and alien, as though it were a suit of clothes that I had not worn in a long, long time. At the same time, I remembered a little more: My name, and the sand. Especially the sand. I did not know why the sand was so important, but some sixth sense told me it was - very important.

Opening my hand, I stared at the gold grains that swirled around above it. It felt...different. I didn't know how, or why, or what it used to feel like, but I knew it wasn't this. This wasn't wrong, it just wasn't right. It looked different, too. My sand used to be dull and coarse, and it smelled of blood. But this...this was bright, shining golden sand, sparkling like a thousand tiny jewels and lighter than air. My heart lifted as I looked at it, and a small - albeit somewhat confused - smile spread over my face. A warm, golden glow that seemed to match the sand spread throughout me, and the overwhelming emotion within me morphed into a coherent thought; _If this is what it is to be dead, I don't mind it so much._

My newfound peace, however, was short-lived. It hadn't been more than a minute or two when I realized that the golden glow around me had disappeared, and I was standing on - or rather, hovering a few inches above - a dark, metal roof, and there were four people staring at me.

Well, three people and a giant rabbit.

I stared back, completely bemused, having forgotten the shining sand that still spiraled above my open palm. Always having been an observant person, (before my untimely death, which was still somewhat of a mystery to me,) I noticed right away that these were not normal people. One of them, the woman, was covered in strange, brightly colored feathers, and had startlingly purple eyes; also a pair of wings that were highly reminiscent of a dragonfly's, and a very startled expression.

Then there was the aforementioned rabbit - a massive specimen, over six feet tall, covered in tattoos and in possession of a pair of boomerangs and the most intelligent eyes I'd ever seen on a rabbit, between which was the distinct crease of a frown.

The last two were at least vaguely human - an old man with a long white beard, and a silver-haired boy, about my age, in a blue hoodie. He was staring at me with narrowed eyes, and I was quick to note the staff that he clutched, and the twin swords that the old man held comfortably in his massive hands.

With the exception of the winged woman, they were altogether a rather formidable lot, and all four of them were staring at me with blatant shock and suspicion. Even so, I wasn't afraid of them, though something told me not to take them lightly.

My fingers curled over my palm, and the glowing sand vanished; preoccupied as I was, I didn't even notice. "Who are you?"

For a moment, none of them answered, but finally the old man spoke up. His voice was stronger and much more powerful than I would have expected, and he had an accent so thick and unfamiliar that it took me a moment to decipher his words.

"We are the Guardians. Who are you?"

I frowned, considering this. "Guardians?" My husky voice came out puzzled, and curiosity was beginning to win out over caution. "Guardians of what? Where am I?"

This time, it was the boy who answered, and his voice surprised me as much as the old man's had - it was deep, as if it belonged to someone twice his age. "Guardians of the children, of course. You're in Michigan, and you didn't answer North's question. Who are you?"

I considered this as well. Truth be told, the question had me stumped - I didn't know my name, or anything else, really. "I...don't know. I think I am dead, or was dead, at least, but now..." I trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging. No compassion, pity, or understanding softened the expressions on the faces that were turned towards me, and I dropped my gaze to my hand, uncurling the fingers and watching as the golden sand gathered again. "I think... I think I am a Guardian, too."

The silver-haired boy made a disparaging noise, and the giant rabbit spoke - he, too, had an accent, much different from the old man's. "And just why do you think that, eh?"

I raised troubled eyes to his face, closing my hand over the glittering sand again. "The moon told me."

The words sounded stupid in my head, but I said them anyway, because what else was there to do but tell the truth? And now that I'd said it, I realized that it _was_ the truth. The 'sixth sense' I'd been experiencing for the past few minutes was the voice of the moon - if it could be said that the moon had a voice. I wasn't sure that it could, but then, I wasn't sure of anything just at the moment.

My words, however stupid they may have sounded, certainly seemed to have an effect on the other Guardians. The feathery woman gasped, and they started whispering furiously among themselves. The rabbit was loudest, and from the sound of it, he wanted to clobber me with his boomerangs, tie me up, and dump me at the North Pole, but the others shushed him and continued their rapid, hushed conversation. I remained quiet, patiently bobbing up and down above the cold surface of the roof as I waited for the verdict to fall. For the first time, I noticed that I was emitting a soft, golden glow that perfectly matched my sand, and my robes were the same rich color. I was somewhat intrigued, but decided I could think about it later - for now, my attention was focused on the other Guardians.

After a few minutes, the little conference broke up, and the four diverse faces turned back to me, still wary, but less suspicious and hostile. The old man in red - I guessed he was the leader - stepped forward, the twin swords held at the ready, though they at least pointed downwards. Though I was not particularly afraid, I appreciated the fact that he wasn't pointing them at my neck.

"We have decided," he began, and I stopped playing with my new sand and applied myself to deciphering his words through his accent, "that, since Man in Moon chose you, we must accept you as an ally. However," he stepped forward, and I instinctively floated back a pace, "you are completely unknown to us. One of our friends was killed very recently, and you seem to be his replacement. This does not mean we accept you as one of us; you have not yet proven yourself. I warn you, stranger, living up to Sandy's role will not be easy, nor will we be easily convinced."

He stopped there, but the giant rabbit continued briefly. "Make one wrong move, harm one hair on one child's head, and we'll eliminate you."

To say that I was perturbed or offended would not have been entirely accurate. I was more confused than anything else. "I died protecting...my people." I paused, wondering why I made such a claim. As before, I realized it was the truth, though I couldn't remember specifics. "I will not hurt the children. I know why I'm here, what my purpose in this...in this new life...is. I know you are battling an overwhelming darkness while the children you struggle to protect cease to believe in you, weakening you. I know that I am stronger than all of you, but I will suffer the same fate if the children no longer believe in me. I know it is the Darkness's doing, and I know we must stop it before all the children cease believing." I stopped, wondering where the flow of words had come from, before the answer slipped quietly into my consciousness. Of course, the Moon told me while the Guardians were talking among themselves.

The Guardians all exchanged a look, apparently unsure of how to respond. Though I was still somewhat puzzled myself, I sought to reassure them - why, I didn't quite know.

"I will help you, if I can. I know what it is to battle Darkness, and to win. The only difference is that this Darkness is...external."

The four people cast me suspicious looks again, huddling into a cluster and whispering among themselves again. Once more, I quietly hovered off to the side, staring down at the golden sand in my palm - Dream Sand, the Moon told me. It was my job to send dreams to all the children of all the world, every night. It was a vast responsibility, and for the first time, I felt a slight twinge of uneasiness - suppose I couldn't do it? Would the children cease to believe? How would it affect the other Guardians? Would my failure strengthen the Darkness that we needed to defeat? How, would, what if...?

My new companions broke their cluster and approached me, and I gratefully abandoned my apprehensive thoughts. The old man - North, I think the white-haired boy called him - cleared his throat, and I once again applied myself to deciphering his words through the thick accent.

"We have decided that, since Man in Moon chose you as Sandy's replacement, we have no choice but to accept his decision. And," he glanced back at his friends, an almost apologetic expression suffusing his ruddy face, "we can certainly use all the help we can get against Pitch Black - the darkness you spoke of." He paused, and I, not knowing what else to do, nodded. The feathered woman spoke up from her place towards the back of the group.

"There's not time to properly initiate you as a Guardian right now, that shall have to be done later, but perhaps it doesn't matter as much, since you're not exactly a new Guardian. I mean, _you_ are a new Guardian, of course, but what you do - I mean, what you _will_ do - has been around since we came to be, and-"

"Tooth!" The feathered woman stopped talking, casting me a quick, sheepish smile as North frowned at her. "We haven't time for that now." He turned his attention back to me, the severe expression dissipating slightly. "We must find and defeat Pitch Black, before he reaches the children. Are you with us?"

Whatever I was in my past life, whatever I may have done, or wherever I may have lived, there was certainly no going back to it now. For better or worse, I was the Sandman now, a guardian of the children, and the Weaver of Dreams. I hesitated not a moment before answering. "I am." North and Tooth beamed, and even the white-haired boy cracked a smile.

"Good! Then let us away, before we are too late." The four of them turned and took off across the rooftops, and I floated rapidly after them. We had not gone very far at all when the old man paused and looked back at me. "By the way - what is your name?"

I paused as well, and blinked. "My name?" I did not know my name; like everything from my rapidly fading past, I had forgotten it, but a slight nudging in my consciousness, that I now recognized as the Moon, informed me, and I was able to answer my new compatriot's question.

"My name is Gaara."


End file.
